The International Writers Magazine: London Life

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Stranger or friend: Encounters in East London. • Erica Johansson A stranger is simply a friend you havenšt got to know yet. What lies between are openness and contact. "Excuse me." A podgy old lady clad in a creased jacket, a brown long skirt and an awry hat, holding a neat purse by her chest, stands in front of me.

"I don’t have my glasses with me. Can you help me press the bottoms at the cash machine over there?"
She points towards the empty area around the two cash machines by Hackneys local bank branch a few yards from us.
"Yes, of course."
I follow her to the cash point. Quietly she tells me the right numbers to press in order to make the withdrawal successful. She carefully folds the pound notes into her wallet. With a thankful smile and an appreciating nod she strolls down Hackney Road towards the pedestrian crossing.

I check my watch, 14:20pm. Five hours earlier I walked through the doors of a Costa Coffee with a fresh takeaway cheese baguette. I put it in my backpack and scuttled towards the tube station. This particular Sunday morning I was lucky to catch a wagon with a few free seats. I sat there thinking about the mornings in rush hour when early risers, youths on their way to school, tourists with sightseeing-, and snapshots plans and well-dressed businessmen flicking through Metro stand squeezed together in the crammed wagons. Everybody avoid eye-contact and dead serious give the impression to be on their way to a place better than the tube. Expressing the words openness and contact are for some reason rather a rarity than common occurring behaviour in London's tube system.

Therefore I value the struggling musicians creating a happier atmosphere as you step down to catch a train or head up towards the streets. Coming from the central line and reaching the escalators to Notting Hill Gate a Saturday afternoon is certainly a real pleasure. The singing, clapping exuberant man below the escalators - beating time with his foot and sometimes playing an instrument - is a needed contrast to the life in London's underground system.

I stepped off at Liverpool Street Station. A sense of never ending stir along the nearby streets makes the area to one of my favourites. I passed by the small Starbucks wagon to my left-hand side and headed for the tempting juice- and smoothie stand at the right. A delicious mango-and papaya mixture from the red-cheeked vendor gave me badly needed energy.

As I turned into a side street I caught sight of a beggar huddled up towards a decrepit house door. He held a copy of "The Big Issue", a paper sold on the streets by vendors hoping to overcome the crises surrounding homelessness. The lack of the compulsory brick that every registered and permitted "Big Issue" vendor are supposed to attach on their shirts revealed it was just a left old copy he had got hold of.
I wondered if he would like to have the cheese baguette. I hadn’t previously offered anything to a beggar, but today I decided to give it a friendly shot.
"Hello. I have a cheese baguette left that I haven’t eaten if you would like one?"
He stared at me for a few seconds.
"No."
At once he returned to his paper.
Did I ask him in a wrong way? I was dumbfounded and didn’t say anything more. For me he consequently remained a stranger.

Old Spitalfields Market by Commercial Street, a few blocks from Liverpool Street, made me in a happy mood. I’m not like those who easily stroll for several hours among the different stands with clothes, high boots, jewels, trinkets and ornaments, but a quarter or twenty minutes is just right. If your stomach rumbles, try a veggie organic lasagne at Café Mediterraneo, a tofu satay at the popular Indonesian Food or a speciality falafel at Falafels at the nearby Spitalfields Food Market. An energy smoothie from Jumpin' Juice isn’t bad either.

After a few minutes walk from Spitalfields I reached London's number one Indian dining strip, Brick Lane, which also has a market with the same name. When I passed by the popular Bagel Bake it was packed with a messy cue of people waiting for their turn to order one of the famous bagel variants. I continued to Columbia Road where Columbia Roads Flower Market caused a bustling atmosphere. A chuffed vendor handed over a splendid bouquet of red roses to his next costumer as a lady with a conspicuous flower arrangement passed by. The scent from the flourishing nosegays and flower bunches made wonder for my mood.

I headed towards Hackney, now gathering a young creative crowd of upcoming artists and many trendy galleries. Because it was Sunday no shops or galleries were open. I decided to check out a café named Pogo I recently read about in my guide "Veggie and Organic London". Five minutes later I entered a snug room, thronged with chatting people lunching by the few wooden dining tables. I opted for a chocolate cake with crispy chunks of biscuits and returned to Hackney Central. Next, the old lady asked me if I could help her at the cash machine.

I see her standing on the other side of the road, with the neat purse by her chest, waiting for the bus. I can understand her choice of travelling. The tube is fast, but gazing over people and places as the bus jolts forwards make you see the streets of London in another light.

As I press my well-used Oyster card against the magnetic field I look for a free place. A lot of the seats are occupied, but the bus is far from crowded. An old couple sit all dressed up in the front, a young mother in a jogging track suit stands by the doors carefully lulling her baby to sleep, a teenager with dreadlocks and big headphones relaxes with outstretched arms in the back and a fashion-conscious girl in a mix of vintage and exclusive looking designer labels sits in front of a thirtysomething woman. I take the empty seat beside the woman. By the next turn I ask her if she knows any nice art galleries in the area.
A stranger is simply a friend you haven’t got to know yet. What lies between are openness and contact. It doesn’t matter whether you are in London, Lisbon, La Paz, Laos, Lesotho or Long Beach. Cross that boundary line. Maybe you will get a nice chat, prejudices confirmed or refuted, another viewpoint, a new friend. Your travel experience will anyhow be richer in many ways.
© Erica Johansson May 2006
erica.johan@gmail.com
Erica Johansson is a freelance writer from Sweden.

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